I have spent a good many years studying World War II history. Not exactly sure why it holds such a fascination for me--perhaps it has something to do with the way it makes me feel close to my Dad, who I lost in 1990.
At any rate, I've been extremely lucky to have actually visited a few places that have had special significance for me as I studied the war in the European Theatre. My 2006 trip to High Wycombe, England, included an unforgettable, behind the scenes, quite personal tour of the former 8th Army Air Forces Headquarters where my Dad spent the war. More recently, here at home, I've driven down the same streets that German prisoners of war walked through during the summer of 1945 on their way from their camp to the packing shed where they canned peaches in a tiny town just a few miles from my house--that experience ultimately led to my master's degree since my study of the camp was the topic of my thesis.
Many years ago I watched a television program about the USS Arizona. It included video of the drops of oil that are still rising to the surface from the wreckage, just a few feet below the water. Some say the drops are tears--that the ship still weeps for the loss of her crew. I was awestruck. Some years later, while visiting the Navy Memorial in Washington, D.C., Randy and I stood transfixed as we listened to videotaped interviews with the men who survived that day--first responders who talked about pulling men from the flaming water, sometimes leaving the victim's skin behind. One corpsman remembered that there were so many burn victims that day, the hospital dispensaries ran out of alcohol for sterilizing equipment and wounds. Some intrepid sailor solved the shortage by separating the local Officer's Clubs from their entire stock of booze; they used the stuff in place of medicinal alcohol.
Anyway, Pearl Harbor sort of became my quest. It's been at the top of my bucket list for decades now and I just wanted to see it more and more the older I got. It was everything I had heard about and more. One particular surprise was the fact that the introductory film that visitors are shown while they wait for the Navy launch to take them across to Ford's Island includes actual footage of the first Japanese torpedo hitting the ship at just before 8am, December 7, 1941. I never knew such footage existed. Most of us are familiar with the now famous photograph of the ship's tower, listing horribly to starboard as it burns out of control.
But seeing the ship as it looked moments earlier, before the attack, when 1,177 men were still looking forward to their Sunday activities, and then seeing that torpedo hit--
Here's a few photos we were able to take during our brief stay on that hallowed ground...
At any rate, I've been extremely lucky to have actually visited a few places that have had special significance for me as I studied the war in the European Theatre. My 2006 trip to High Wycombe, England, included an unforgettable, behind the scenes, quite personal tour of the former 8th Army Air Forces Headquarters where my Dad spent the war. More recently, here at home, I've driven down the same streets that German prisoners of war walked through during the summer of 1945 on their way from their camp to the packing shed where they canned peaches in a tiny town just a few miles from my house--that experience ultimately led to my master's degree since my study of the camp was the topic of my thesis.
Many years ago I watched a television program about the USS Arizona. It included video of the drops of oil that are still rising to the surface from the wreckage, just a few feet below the water. Some say the drops are tears--that the ship still weeps for the loss of her crew. I was awestruck. Some years later, while visiting the Navy Memorial in Washington, D.C., Randy and I stood transfixed as we listened to videotaped interviews with the men who survived that day--first responders who talked about pulling men from the flaming water, sometimes leaving the victim's skin behind. One corpsman remembered that there were so many burn victims that day, the hospital dispensaries ran out of alcohol for sterilizing equipment and wounds. Some intrepid sailor solved the shortage by separating the local Officer's Clubs from their entire stock of booze; they used the stuff in place of medicinal alcohol.
Anyway, Pearl Harbor sort of became my quest. It's been at the top of my bucket list for decades now and I just wanted to see it more and more the older I got. It was everything I had heard about and more. One particular surprise was the fact that the introductory film that visitors are shown while they wait for the Navy launch to take them across to Ford's Island includes actual footage of the first Japanese torpedo hitting the ship at just before 8am, December 7, 1941. I never knew such footage existed. Most of us are familiar with the now famous photograph of the ship's tower, listing horribly to starboard as it burns out of control.
But seeing the ship as it looked moments earlier, before the attack, when 1,177 men were still looking forward to their Sunday activities, and then seeing that torpedo hit--
Here's a few photos we were able to take during our brief stay on that hallowed ground...
3 comments:
It was truly powerful to be there and hear the accounts from the survivors. I'm so glad we got to go!
You have a great blog of historical memories. This was a very interesting post of Pearl Harbor. Thanks. And the music was a perfect compliment to the topic.
I went with Randy and mom and dad. So powerful. I don't know if the movie is the same but the one I saw showed underwater footage of the wreakage as the names of the lost were whispered - very powerful. This only other time I cried more was Daucau.
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